


Beltane Sex Magic

by VexLonely



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amortentia Flashbacks, Blushing idiots, Dubcon if you squint, F/M, Full Moon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Ritual Public Sex, Sex Magic, Truth Spells, creative use of wine, mutual unrequited pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23783461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VexLonely/pseuds/VexLonely
Summary: A discovery that will change modern potioneering, a frustrating priestess, and one very fortunate Draco Malfoy.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 23
Kudos: 307





	Beltane Sex Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Do enjoy a +7K oneshot of shameless smut that poured out of me while I procrastinated on my Lumione WIP. Thanks for looking!

If anyone had told Hermione Granger years ago that one day she would run headlong into a forest with Draco Malfoy under a late spring full moon, she’d have asked them to pick a direction and fuck off. 

Heart thudding against her rib cage, she followed him into the forest. The pair tracked a Ministry-issued jobberknoll, a magical bird trained to seek it's nocturnal insect prey throughout Britain. Against all odds, the image of _Draco-sodding-Malfoy_ sprinting after a silent bird in his dragonhide wingtips was making her wheeze with laughter when she could spare the oxygen. 

“It’s just through this bit of— _Aargh_!” Draco batted a low branch out of his eyes between steps. “It’s a small copse, I mean! Remember these trees from when I was a boy.” 

Hermione pushed harder after him and cursed her short legs. They were in Wiltshire, closer to Draco’s ancestral seat than Hermione was comfortable. She’d tried not to cringe as she stepped through the floo in his foyer. That seemed like it had been hours ago. 

Draco stopped on the edge of a small glen. Catching up to him, Hermione attempted not to take note of the high spots of color on his cheek or the way his chest moved underneath his clothing. She failed admirably, and caught his eyes only to lower her gaze when he raised a keen eyebrow in reply. 

After working together in the Department of Magical Imports and Acquisitions for three months, it wasn’t as if she had a _crush_ on Malfoy. Some days, she wasn’t even sure if she was attracted to him or just lonely and in need of a thorough lay. However, a witch would have to be an idiot not to notice that he was no longer a cocksure schoolboy or a frightened Death Eater, and an idiot Hermione was not. 

They talked. 

About _everything_. 

They yelled about most things too, which lit fires in her blood and could result in anything from bitter loathing to semi-erotic staring contests in the queue at the Ministry coffee counter. 

“Where’s the jobberknoll?” Hermione eyes flit about in the moonlight. 

Draco gestured towards the middle of the clearing they’d come upon. In its center lay their prize, a dark and pointy looking shrub that dripped in moonlight and luscious gold flowers. Hermione felt a thrill run through her. After all of her research, they were finally narrowing in on the reward. 

“Close your mouth, Granger,” Malfoy ribbed. “Wouldn’t want it to stick like that.” 

“Git.” Hermione was already fumbling at her toolbelt, outfitted and customized for their job tonight. 

She descended into the clearing fully and then turned back to Draco. Full moonbeams filtered through his hair, lending him the unfair visage of a young demigod emerging from the woods in well-tailored robes. 

Crossing to the shrub with caution, Hermione tried not to startle the unlikely ecosystem that they were there to profit from. The jobberknoll above swooped silently, crunching every so often on the pink Khepher beetles that the witch was there to collect. 

Draco announced his presence by dropping a warm hand on her shoulder and kneeling beside her. Hermione tried not to inhale too quickly as his scent wafted over her. 

“Look at those _lucrative_ , iridescent bastards,” he drawled, awe evident in his low baritone.

She shivered lightly at his show of casual familiarity before nodding in agreement.

“I can’t believe that Khepher beetles were the answer all along,” she rambled. “I mean, before this, you could only brew an Everlasting Elixir under the light of the full moon, and now—” 

Draco cut off the familiar speech. “ _And now some famous Gryffindor swot_ figured out how to harness the ancient and holy power of a certain fuschia moon beetle on her day off from analyzing market arithmetic, blah blah…” He waved a well-kempt hand in front of her face in a swishy motion. 

“Quit taking the piss, Malfoy.” Hermione tried not to smile as she pointed her wand and shot several hot sparks at his exposed ankle, taking joy at his accompanying yelp and incensed gaze. She leaned away. 

“They’re beautiful.” she spoke softly into the chill night air. 

Brilliantly reflective and thoroughly occupied with draining the golden flowers of their nectar, the Khepher beetles milled about without rhyme or reason. Hermione drew up a large jar and began using her finger to _tap-tap-tap_ them inside, as melancholic at collecting the rare species as she was excited about their incorporation into potioneering and what it meant for the development of the discipline as a whole. 

When she’d discovered their use as fitting substitutes for the moonlight brewing conditions required by Everlasting and anti-aging potions, she’d submitted an academic essay for peer review. Hermione hadn’t considered that after leaving England to study abroad post-Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy had earned his potions mastery from a renowned Belgian warlock. 

Draco had been sent the paper as one of her peers. 

He’d returned it to her on their floor at the Ministry, ripe with grin and an intellectual acquisitions contract for an unconscionable amount of galleons. 

Thus, here they were. 

A rogue chuckle escaped Hermione as the witch recalled her fourth year and the trapping of a much more noxious and difficult beetle. 

“Something funny?” he asked.

Draco circled the clearing while she worked, keeping watch. The blonde had fed her a line about protecting them from potentially dangerous fellow collectors in order to justify his presence on her foraging trip. Hermione’s rebuttal, that since her discovery about the Khepher beetles was new it was unlikely that they’d see another soul, had fallen on deaf, pureblood ears. She suspected that he was really here for quality control, his possessive Malfoy streak extending to the six-legged assets that Malfoy Corporations would soon monopolize the logistics of trading globally. 

“It’s just that the last time I wanted a beetle in a jar this badly,” Hermione replied, looking up at him coyly, “I was fourteen. And the insect in question had been writing nasty things about me to the _Prophet_.” 

It took him a moment, but then genuine laughter spilled from Draco’s mouth. 

“You didn’t.” He was looking at her with a certain glint in his eye that spread a warmth through her chest. Maybe it was the moonlight or that he was standing in it with her, but Hermione found herself unable to stop engaging with him when it made her heart race like this. 

She confirmed. “Oh, I certainly did. Let it serve as a warning to not fuck with me, Malfoy.” 

“All the times I’ve been warned against you,” Draco began chuckling to himself, “and this will be only the second-most frightening, Granger” 

Hermione froze. His statement gave her pause, and she regarded his tapered back as he turned to look at the moon. _What was that about?_

“Malfoy?” she asked, his name a question in and of itself. 

Draco’s eyes were fixed neatly on the sky, but she suspected that his avoidant gaze would be filled with emotion if he only chose to let her in. He didn’t. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Draco rotated away and scanned their surroundings again, his usual debonair facade sliding back into place. 

Her cheeks flushed, but Hermione returned her full attention to the Khepher beetles. 

After several moments of successful foraging, Hermione felt his eyes boring into the back of her skull. She refused to acknowledge him. If he was going to be elusive, she was going to be obstinate. It was the way they worked. 

“Granger?” 

Hermione gave a noncommittal _hmm_ and blew an errant curl out of her face before it could be snatched by a circling jobberknoll. When she looked up, he was watching her with a funny look on his face. 

“Don’t react, but—” Her attention piqued. Draco’s voice had dropped from its usual teasing lilt and her hackles raised in an instant. She schooled her movements, still steadily gathering bugs. “We’re being watched.” 

Hermione made a mental note of her wand’s location, strapped in its field brace on her right thigh. 

“Poachers?” she asked quietly, capping her first large glass jar with the intent to sweep her eyes across the clearing as she exchanged the full container for an empty in her purse. 

“Impossible to say, but I think not. They’d probably already be on us, no?” 

Hermione nodded in assent and Draco made a show of craning his neck up to admire the moon all the while looking through his lower periphery at the figures in the trees. 

He clucked his tongue loudly. “Eyes up, Granger, they’re not going for subtlety.” 

She stood, fingers finding her wand in its thigh brace and moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Sure enough, several people were descending from the direction that they’d come earlier. Swathed in glittering silver fabric, they appeared to float in the moonlight. 

Draco took her hand in his larger one, startling her. “Relax, I can side-along you back to the manor,” he intoned softly. 

“Wait.” 

He turned and caught her eye. “What? We have enough beetles.” Draco lowered his voice and spoke with haste as the group approached. “You may be insatiable in your need to know it all, but I don’t fancy finding out what sort of magical fuckery these sterling silver mites are wont to get up to.” 

Despite his hesitations, Hermione’s fear lowered and her curiosity grew as the group drew closer. The moonlit strangers all bore burdens; some had bits of wood or flowers, and several carried laden-down jugs that took two people to manage. One or two of them raised acknowledging hands in their direction. 

“I don’t think they were expecting us, either.” Hermione said. Draco growled lightly in return. 

“I don’t like it.” 

Soon enough, it didn’t matter. As the gathering of people came to a halt nearby, one of their number stepped forward with an assured sense of her own significance. 

She was one of those women whose age it was impossible to tell. Long raven-black hair fell to her waist from beneath a gilded headpiece. When she smiled at them, it was all Hermione could do not to step a little bit closer, but Draco’s firm hand anchored her back. 

“Blessed be, strangers.” A warm and resonant voice breached their silence.

Draco acknowledged the woman with a terse nod and Hermione bobbed her head, at a momentary loss for the right words.

At their combined stiffness, bubbling laughter erupted from the strange new witch and chuckles ran through the assembly behind her. Some people had set down their burdens. A handful had started smoking or drinking. 

“So defensive!” The woman cried out through her musical laughter. “Children, you have no such necessity. We mean you no harm, in fact, and gladly welcome two more to our celebration.” 

Hermione noted with frustration that Draco’s eyes were calculating but neutral. He was brooding then, upset that she hadn’t taken him up on his offer of apparition. 

Very well. 

“Hermione Granger, good to meet you.” She extended the hand that wasn’t being clenched by Draco towards the strange woman. 

“Evanora Decetassen, High Priestess of this assembled order.” A lithe and perfectly smooth hand met hers. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Granger. And your companion?” 

Evanora pinned Draco with a curious stare and he stiffened at her side before extending a hand. 

“Draco Malfoy. Charmed.” 

A beatific smile crossed the priestess’s face and she clapped her hands together with gusto. 

“Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. Welcome to our family. It is rare that strangers are able to track our movements, and for that, I See that you will be rewarded.” With a crook of her finger and an all-knowing flash of ivory teeth, Evanora turned back to her companions. 

“Children of the Goddess, rejoice!” She projected. “Welcome these two strong hearts and youthful minds into our midst. Hurrah!” 

“ _Hurrah!_ ” the gathered echoed back. Evanora drifted away to converse with her cohort as a silver-swathed member of the group sidled up to the two Ministry employees and forced glasses of wine into Hermione and Dracos’ hands. 

“Hermione,” Draco’s fervent whisper of her given name in her ear sent a shudder of desire down her spine despite the new circumstances. He dropped her hand and took her shoulder quickly, turning her into his body. 

“My grandmother used to tell stories about magical folk being swept up by cults if one wandered too far into the moorlands around WIltshire.” Draco’s eyes bore into her own and Hermione fought back the urge to cough. 

“You’re being paranoid, Draco,” she replied, pressing her cool glass to her lips. The wine was sweet but surprisingly acidic, and it coaxed a rise out of her tongue as she swished it around her mouth. “They’re a group of pagans out for a full moon. Hardly sinister. You’ve fallen for a classic old wives tale.” 

“You sound like an idiot. We had a job to do, and this wasn’t part of it.” Draco retorted, scoffing all the way into his glass before taking a large sip. 

“And you’re the expert on not breaking the rules all of the sudden?” Hermione could tell that her voice sounded shrill. “It may come as a surprise, but I’m not always the buttoned-up swot that you make me out to be.” 

“Believe me Granger, I followed your shenanigans with Potter and Weasley for years, I know that you’re far from righteous. Self-righteous, maybe.” 

She shook his hand off her shoulder. “You’re a bloody prat, you know that?” 

“Fool.” 

“Spoilsport.” Hermione drained her wine and was surprised when the glass in her hand refilled magically. “We already have the Khepher beetles, why can’t you relax and let me observe what’s going on here? It’s not every day—” 

“Hermione, you don’t understand—” he tried to interrupt. 

“—that you get to be involved in an impromptu ritual.” 

Ignoring him, she moved to turn away towards the enrobed figures but Draco caught her hand again and tugged her close to his body. The movement upset her wine and flung several droplets onto her temple. Hermione growled with indignation against his chest. 

“Trust me, little Gryffindor.” Draco’s mouth lit small fires against her ear. “Curiosity does, often, kill the cat. You don’t know much about these rituals because their documented existence is largely kept in pureblood—” 

“Am I interrupting?” Evanora was back, and Hermione sprung away from the Malfoy heir. 

“No,” she assured the priestess at the same time that Draco hissed “Obviously.” 

“Excellent,” the raven-haired witch replied. “I’d like to formally invite you into our gathering tonight. If you, Draco Malfoy, are who you say you are—” Evanora’s twinkling gaze settled on Draco, the latter’s eyes narrowing over the rim of the wine he gulped in frustration. “Your participation will benefit our Order greatly. The ancient Malfoy bloodline has been long-connected to the magical ley lines beneath our very feet.” 

“Absolutely not.” Draco bit out through a tense jaw. “We’ll be going, actually. Blessed be, priestess, but we have nothing to offer you or your ritual. You’ve misread the situation, I assure you.”

“Misread? I think not, Master Malfoy, for you are here on this abundant night.” Hermione couldn’t tell if the priestess was mocking him or not. “And you’ve brought your own companion! One whose magic is so attuned to yours already.” 

With a guilty jolt that came far too late, Hermione realized that Draco had been serious, trying to tell her that he knew more about the ritual than he’d let on. She was simultaneously irritated at his withholding of information and remorseful that she’d been so stubborn. 

“Not like this, priestess.” Draco warned, voice dark. 

She’d missed something in their exchange while her mind wandered. Hermione implored Draco with her eyes, but he looked away from her, glaring wordless daggers at the witch. 

“Forgive me,” the raven-haired witch continued without true remorse. “I sometimes overstep with my Sight. But surely you can acknowledge your rampant attraction for each other. You have, after all, been holding hands this entire conversation.” 

Hermione choked on air. “What?” 

Suddenly the hand of Draco’s that she clutched in hers felt like incriminating evidence instead of a supportive gesture. She dropped it like a hot stone.

“Do you deny your own affections, Hermione? A shame,” Evanora’s voice had taken on a teasing lilt. “A blind man could see the torch that the young Malfoy carries for you” 

“You don’t have to answer her.” Draco sounded strangled as he looked away, spots of flush visible on his pale cheeks. 

Thinking of the way that he’d carefully annotated her paper for peer review with perfectly precise handwriting and insightful prose, Hermione flushed. Draco listened to her constant stream of tangential thoughts at the Ministry, often replying with a wisecrack or two to make her laugh. There were the innumerous times that she’d admired him across the breakroom as he poured cream into his tea or noticed how fit he was in the conference room. She remembered the way he would rest a thumb against his full lower lip when deciphering the weaknesses in potential investment strategies, or the ease at which he’d cast a wandless warming charm on her tonight as they left the Manor. 

“I don’t deny it.” 

At her admission Hermione’s chest fluttered, a bed of red-hot embers catching life. She kept her focus trained on Evanora and the congregation of moonlight revelers and focused on ignoring the molten gaze that she felt against her neck. Her hair crackled with a sentient spark or two. 

Evanora smiled wolfishly. “Excellent. I’d hate to ply unwilling participants with so much of our celebratory wine.” With a final wink, the priestess left Hermione and Draco to bask in their tension, before speaking—

“ _Veritassimus Revelium!_ ” 

At the incantation, Hermione’s clothes disappeared. 

The bright blur of moonlit marble in her periphery assured her that Draco’s had too. 

The gathered members whooped and clapped in starkered frenzy as their silver ritual garments vanished on the breeze at the priestess's command. 

Surprised at her sudden nakedness, Hermione tried to fight the urge to cover her bits with her hand. All around her nude people conversed and drank in droves. Joyful chatter arose in the clearing as the moon-chasers began to celebrate. Hermione registered a very naked Evanora talking to an equally nude woman nearby them, and beyond that, a small ring of twirling dancers. 

Her thoughts derailed when she chanced a look at the man next to her, as nothing in her life had prepared her for the suddenly accessible form of one very naked Draco Lucius Malfoy. Looking away was nearly impossible. Every inch of him was proportionate and begged to be touched with forbidden reverence. 

She flushed scarlet.

“Hermione.” Draco was steadfastly focusing on her forehead, but he caught her wrist for attention. A new magical ripple ensconced her body. His forearm was littered with small scars and taut veins, the softness of his movements making the gesture strangely intimate. She’d never even seen him in a tee shirt before.

“Draco.” 

He shuddered at her low voice and she found herself blurting out, “In sixth year, my _amortentia_ smelled like you. Freshly mown grass, parchment—” Hermione clapped the hand he’d taken back over her mouth in shock at the admission. 

She hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t intended on ever letting him know. 

“What?” Draco’s pale eyebrows shot to his hairline. 

Hermione was having a small, involuntary aneurysm, she was certain. 

“What else? You never finished the list.” Draco’s eyes were rapt despite the slew of naked people around them, and it wasn’t helping her composure that he remembered that day in sixth year Potions too. 

She removed her hand from her lips, despite not wanting to embarrass herself further. “Cloves and sweet orange. Your cologne. I didn’t put it together until later that week when you sat next to me Arithmancy because someone had transfigured your usual desk.” 

Draco let out a puff of air and spun, running a hand through his hair. Hermione tried and failed not to ogle the shape of his ass. 

“What _is this_ ? It has to be—” Hermione mused aloud, thinking back on the priestess’ incantation. “ _Veritassimus Revelium_ , of course! It means—” 

“To reveal maximum truth.” Draco finished for her.

“And to reveal _that elderly couples’_ sagging bits, evidently.” Hermione choked out the words, overwhelmed, trying to focus on anything but the way that Draco’s spider web of sectumsempra scars traced his perfect chest. 

“Mine smelled like you too.” Struck by a similar bout of compulsion, Draco reached forward suddenly and cupped her face. She tried not to whimper out loud at his touch. “Drying ink, mint tea, rosehips and fresh pastry, of all things. Of course, I’d known it would. I’d been lusting after you for nearly two years by then.” 

He too slapped a hand over his mouth, beet-red. 

Hermione couldn’t stop the reply from forming on her lips. “When you walked into the Ministry after coming back from Belgium I checked you out in the lift before I realized I knew you.” The truth rushed out of her in a single, unwarranted exhale. 

Draco’s eyes widened, and she could tell he was attempting to resist the verbal compulsion. His efforts were in vain. 

“I don’t give a shit about quality control,” he began. “Or _poachers_ for that matter, I mean, they’re _beetles_ , Hermione, and ones that no one even cares about yet.” 

Draco’s voice was as intent as it was unstoppable. “I just wanted to spend more time with you.” 

Hermione surprised herself. “I wanted to spend time with you too.” 

Somehow, she’d forgotten she was naked until Draco determinedly cast his eyes down her body to avoid the damnable awkwardness of speaking. 

After dating in her early twenties, Hermione was no prude. Despite her experience, she’d never savored the way a man’s gaze could worship intimate parts of her body until she watched Draco’s jaw relax and grey gaze decelerate as his eyes lingered on her sex, exposed as it was in the midnight air. 

“At the end of fifth year,” the words fell softly from his lips. “Bellatrix found memories of my fantasies about you in my head. I was tortured for them, and took the mark less than a week later. I never told you because to this day I cannot bear your pity.” 

Hermione couldn’t breathe. Not after those words. Not when she became painfully aware of how well their bodies could fit, not when Draco Malfoy’s eyes told her that he couldn't believe his luck, and especially not when his fingers closed their distance and brushed the underside of her breast with a disbelieving hiss. 

Gooseflesh erupted on her abdomen and Draco’s eyes darkened as he watched her nipple harden under his touch. A guiding hand on her ribcage drew her to him and his forehead came to rest on hers, his gaze full of reckless hope. 

Hermione had no such self-control. 

She crushed her lips against his. When he kissed her back, she released a wild moan into his mouth. Draco was burning, wrapping his arms around her to bring their starving bodies even closer. Hermione’s centers of focus narrowed to her nipples, dragging against his bare chest as they turned her body into a firebrand of yearning, and the heavy touch of his stiffening erection on her inner thigh. 

Hermione pulled away from his mouth, desperate with her need for breath. Undeterred, his fingers sought her nipples as he plastered her neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. She couldn’t begin to try to tame the breathy, forthright cries that fell from her lips. 

There wasn’t a part of her that he wouldn't worship, and Hermione could feel his ardor ringing through their newfound affinity. 

“Draco—” she began, surprising herself with how hoarse her voice came out. 

“ _Fuck._ ” Draco growled against her neck and drug his head up to hers. He cupped her face with long fingers, pupils wide, eyes nearly black with longing. “You can’t say my name like that and not let me touch you.” 

His eyes dropped to her sex and Hermione felt her desire melt downwards, dewy heat accumulating between her folds. When he raised his gaze back to hers, she nodded. 

Draco devoured her with his next kiss, crushing her against him, his hands full of her bum while his tongue coaxed little moans from her throat. 

He ran his hands down her low back and parted her cheeks with deft hands, seeking. When his fingertips met their moistened goal, he shuddered with lust. 

“Is all of this for me?” He’d broken their kiss to groan against her neck. “ _Hermione_.” 

“Yes.” 

She almost didn’t recognize the desire in her tone. 

“I feel like I’m hallucinating,” Draco admitted with a low murmur. Further waves of longing shot to her core as his fingers stroked around her sex lightly. At his words, she felt herself twitch against him. He felt it too, and finally dipped two of his fingers into her, her body accepting them greedily. 

“Fuck!” It was Hermione’s turn to curse and she canted her hips into his welcoming body.

He drew her even closer as his fingers worked, swallowing her gasps with his kisses. The movement arched her back towards him, forcing her nipples up against his chest and ensuring that his cock pressed firmly against her aching clitoris. At her aroused gasp, he groaned and bit her ear possessively.

“How does it feel to look at me while everyone else can see my slick fingers in your cunt?” 

“It's _fucking perfect, Draco_.” Hermione allowed herself the confession, wanton head falling forward onto his neck as his efforts redoubled between her legs.

Hermione keened against his hand with a gasp. Her hands clutched his shoulders with far more force than she could control and small shocks had begun to pulse up and down her body. Draco was relentless inside her. When he paused to spread her glistening sex open against the cool night air and drug his other hand against her clit, Hermione came with voracious speed. Aware of the audience around them, the thrill of the exposure swelled in her chest and Hermione pressed grateful kisses against her deathgrip on his shoulder. Opening her eyes, she could see dozens of couples over his shoulder. Nearby, a woman was taking two men inside her at once, and Evanora herself was arching her back as another witch buried her face between her legs. 

It was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen and felt simultaneously. 

“Draco, I—” she couldn’t string a coherent thought together as his fingers continued to dip in and out of her core at a slow, torturous pace. His eyes teased her with a sort of masculine pride that she couldn’t begrudge him, given the efficiency at which he’d just brought her to climax. 

“Yes, love?” With a smirk he kissed her, swallowing the moan that she couldn’t stop from erupting as he returned to her clitoris and stroked it with punishing pressure. So soon after her previous orgasm, she cried out at the intensity of the sensation. 

“Dr—Draco, I can’t— I’m going to—” Hermione babbled incoherently as her legs started to shake.

“You’re dripping onto my cock, Hermione.” It was true. Lustful fluid had coated Draco’s fingers and her inner thighs, wetting his thick cock where it pressed against her swollen lips. Draco groaned against her ear. “And it's the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“Please.” She locked breathless eyes with him and started casting her hips down in time to meet his fingers. His head fell back at her responsiveness and he moaned. 

“Let me taste you, Hermione.” His eyes were bright, wild when she met them with her own. “We can pretend it never happened after, that this trip was all beetles and running after birds, but by gods, Hermione. Let me touch you tonight.” 

With the fantasy of his blonde head between her thighs flooding her mind, Hermione nodded at him shamelessly.

Draco knelt slightly and hitched her thighs up and around his waist. For a moment, her sex was pressed fully against his erection, her legs forced wide by the nature of their position.

“Please,” she begged him, fully aware of the way her muscles were aching to be filled now that she could verify the sinful length and girth of his cock. He lowered them down to the ground, flattening her back against the cool grass. 

“Please, what?”

She could see the moon, light soaking them from its watchful place in the sky over Draco’s shoulder. Taking the care to slowly grind his hips against her exposed sex and into the earth beneath them, Draco rose up her body to capture her full lips. 

Kissing him like this felt different. Before, she’d been able to control the tilt of her body, able to shift her stance on a whim. This time, with Draco’s forearms caged around her head and his fingers stretched around her throat, Hermione felt herself surrender under his weight. 

He was everywhere, so close and so frustratingly far from where her body craved him to be, all at once. 

“Please don’t stop touching me.” Her previously unverbalized desire fell from her mouth and Draco growled, dragging her hips up against his as he ground his sex down against her quim. 

“I couldn't if I wanted to.” He confirmed reverently, before drawing back. “ _Accio_ , wine.”

The wandless magic only made her hotter somehow, made her want the young wizard more as he sat back on his heels and uncorked the ceramic cask that flew into his open hand. He kept one hand on the wine as he drank deeply, quenching his thirst, and used the other to draw jolts of pleasure from her sensitive nerves. 

Draco passed her the wine and she raised up on an elbow to drink from it. The action brought her breasts closer to him and he descended, pulling a nipple between his lips with a contented sigh. 

Soon, it was all she could do to watch with staggered breath as Draco Malfoy drizzled excess wine over her sternum, following it with his tongue and carving a path of a thousand tiny sparks. He thumbed her nipples lightly as they stood out against the cool midnight air. 

Draco worked his way down her legs thoughtfully, spreading them from his position between them. His erection bobbed against his abdomen, the evidence of his desire making her mouth water. His cock was as beautiful as the rest of him, dusky and yearning. Hermione craved it with a strength that surprised her.

Draco too, had fixed her sex with a ravenous stare. She wondered how she looked in his view, legs spread wide, hips open, hair covering the ground around her head.

“ _Gods._ ” Draco’s voice rumbled against her core and Hermione knew that if he touched her now, she’d come apart again. 

“See something you like?” Hermione propositioned him boldly, and took savage joy at Draco’s incredulous choking.

He matched her energy. “I’ve been trying to imagine the shape of you for years.” Draco lowered his body to rest on his elbows, his breath fanning out over the area in question. She whimpered.

Her sex lay wanting, neglected but for his gaze. She craved his fingers again, longed to come around him like she had minutes ago. “ _Draco,_ please…”

The edge in her voice drew his eyes away from her vagina, where he met her gaze with voracious curiosity.

Hermione nodded. Draco grinned like a fox, but refused to touch her with a shake of his beautiful head.

She couldn’t remember why she’d denied herself this fantasy in the first place. Three months of finding him an attractive coworker couldn’t account for all of the places that they fit, it didn’t explain how she felt when he crushed her against him.

She tried again when his restraint started to drive her insane. “You bastard.” She panted. “I want— I _need_ you to touch me.”

“I’ve waited so long, Hermione. You can’t wait a minute longer?” He was teasing her. He’d given her her first orgasm so quickly that she shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d withhold the second.

“You’re an absolute menace, Draco Malfoy.” She thrust her own hand down to her clit, only to keen in frustration when he pinned it to the ground beside her.

“You love it, Granger.” The return to her familiar surname in such unpredictable circumstances made a genuine laugh erupt from her lungs and he smiled wide at the sound. “Plus, you’re sexy when you’re frustrated. Some things never change.”

Burying her answering grin between his lips, Draco made a show of grabbing the wine once again and peppered soft kisses on her breasts and abdomen on his return to her sex. 

Kissing the junction of her inner thigh, Draco breathed deeply against her. His lips were parted from exertion and awe as he gazed upon her, and then—

Maddeningly, he held her delicate skin taut and drizzled droplet by droplet of wine onto her exposed clitoris.

“Draco—” she choked out, surprised at her own arousal. “Draco, please—” Hermione’s hips canted forward of their own accord.

Just when Hermione knew that she couldn’t take the sensation anymore, just when the _drip-drip-drip_ of the wine was too slow as it rolled down her folds, he met the descending droplets with a strong, upward lick against her core.

“ _Oh! Fffuck_.” Hermione threw her wrist into her mouth and bit down against the singular sensation of Draco Malfoy sucking her most sensitive anatomy between his lips with a satisfied moan.

She reached her right hand down her body, scraping her nails through his hair the way that she’d wanted to do ever since he’d walked back into the Ministry and effectively back into her life. He raised a hand above his head and rested it between her heaving breasts, over her heart, where she quickly entwined her fingers with his.

The intimacy of the moment threatened to bring tears to her eyes.

Hermione shattered.

Through her orgasm, she recognized his fingers as they dipped inside her, spreading her wider and allowing him to further lave against her sex with abandon.

“Beautiful,” he was murmuring against her skin, fingers tracing the paths forged by his tongue. “Fucking exquisite.”

As close to boneless as she’d ever been, Hermione forced herself to sit up, adjusting her legs so that they sat chest to chest, her thighs around his hips and his legs on either side of her behind. Hermione ran a hand down his torso when their lips met, grazing over the soft curls beneath his belly and stopped where his cock lay, firm and wanting.

“Draco—” she exhaled against his mouth. 

His breathless eyes snapped to hers as her fingers played idly with the sensitive skin above his cock.

“Yes?” His voice was pure mischief, lithe body promising wholesome sin.

She ran her thumb over the head of his cock and marveled at the precum that coated it. Draco lurched forward with a shallow thrust and bit her shoulder, a healthy yearning sound in his throat. Emboldened, Hermione brought both of her hands between their bodies and moved them in tandem, pumping him up and down. 

“Her—Hermione, _fuck_.” Her lover started to protest weakly. “Unless you want me to come all over your brilliant tits, you’re going to have to stop.” 

She increased the pressure with an unsympathetic, “Hmm.” 

He’d certainly tortured her with waiting long enough.

Reaching to the side with one hand, she located the wine, smiling in glee when she found a small amount still inside. One hand still stroking his cock, she looked him dead in the eye as she downed the rest of their wine. 

“Witch.” Draco growled, his head pitching forward to rest against her sternum. 

Setting the wine down, she used her hands to raise her hips up, notching his erection against her, letting him feel her pulse and betraying how desperately she wanted him. 

“Hermione, please— _fuck!_ ” his cries cut off with a garbled moan as she used her weight to sink down onto him, bringing them together at last.

She draped her arms over his shoulders and rolled her hips experimentally, adjusting to his size. Draco reached a hand up to her jaw, using it to drag her lips down onto his own. His tongue probed into her mouth before he broke away, sucking on her neck, seeking the spots that he had learned made her whimper and sigh. 

Draco wrapped his arms around her torso tightly, holding her almost still in his lap and started to thrust up into her. 

They groaned in dual pleasure.

“Gods, you feel so good.” Hermione’s wits felt sharper when she wasn’t at his mercy. “Fuck, Draco, right there.” He was pulling out of her almost completely before plunging back slowly, stretching her inch by erotic inch. 

Hermione bit her lip and cried out against his forehead when she looked down, impossibly turned on by the sight and sensation of him filling her over and over, body on fire from the heat in his eyes and his open expression of awe. 

“You’re so fucking perfect—ugh” she’d fluttered her inner walls around him as he spoke, effectively stealing the air from his lungs. He recovered. “I dreamed about your body before I tasted it. Before I felt it.” 

Draco caught her eyes with total seriousness, as he concluded. “You’ll ruin me.” 

Hermione tilted her head back and chuckled into the night sky before bringing her fingers to Draco’s mouth. When he sucked on them lightly she pressed her hips forward, tilting their bodies so that he lay flat on his back and she was the one riding him. 

The new angle ripped steady groans from both of them, his because she felt so much tighter like this, hers because she could roll her hips with abandon, taking him against her sensitive g spot with every lingering thrust. 

Draco matched her pace with his own movements, gripping her hips and looking up at her like a man experiencing godliness. Hermione’s lips were parted, bruised by the strength of his kisses so that they matched her bouncing, dusky nipples. He admired the way his cock disappeared into her cunt, was utterly enamored when she moaned shamelessly and planted one hand in the middle of his chest, the other dropping to wring tiny circles of pleasure from her own body. 

With a great, shuddering cry, she came a third time, and Draco Malfoy briefly entertained the idea of killing every able-bodied man in Britain so that he alone could possess the exquisite memory of Hermione Granger beneath the full moon, riding herself to convulsive orgasm on his cock.

Perhaps he’d give the memory to her as a gift one day.

“Draco, look.” His witch spoke from where he had collapsed against his chest. They were still coupled together, the occasional flutter of her core around him driving him to madness.

He followed the lazy line her finger cut through the air, shifting his head to look down at the ground next to their bodies. 

Beneath them, and at further inspection, all around them, blue shimmering magic pooled over the earth. It was most concentrated right below their bodies, but stretched icy-looking fingers out in all directions.

“It’s connecting us,” she observed, pushing up off his chest and once more treating Draco to the vision of her pert nipples atop round breasts. He reached out to thumb her left one idly.

Sure enough, the strands of magic reached all throughout the group of revelers, connecting them in one mass of fornicating strangers that he’d blissfully put from his mind as soon as Hermione’s clothing had vanished. 

“It’s the ritual,” he agreed. “Sex magic and the moonlight coaxing the ley lines out to play.” 

He could feel her brain whirring at the new information, watched her drift into some vast corner of her mind like she always did. 

“I’ll let you look at some books we have about cult rituals at the Manor.”

The sentence, comedic in its normality, brought her attention back to the man between her thighs and Hermione blushed violently at the sight of an extremely disheveled, impossibly aroused Draco Malfoy.

“Draco?” 

“Hmm?” he questioned, gaze returning to hers from where he’d been focused on teasing her nipples into tight peaks. 

“You’re inside of me.” She breathed out the obvious statement.

He shot up on his hands, the movement bringing his chest closer and driving his cock deeper. “Yes.”

She met his lips with a sigh as his hands tangled in her hair. “You’re inside of me and it feels incredible,” Hermione elaborated.

He shifted their positions, flipping her beneath him and sinking back down into her heat before admitting, “I cannot fathom how I’ll manage to ever think clearly again."

Draco moved, and Hermione’s hips fell open easily. With as much self control as he still possessed, Draco increased the pace of his thrusts until every one of them drew a reverent curse from her lips. She reached around to find his bum and drew him even closer to her as he pumped into her strong body.

He slipped a thumb between her lips, enjoying the way she drug her tongue against the digit before replacing his hand with his mouth.

For a moment, rare and complex as it was, Draco Malfoy made love to Hermione Granger.

He adored her. Held her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. He felt her surrender to him, felt the perfect synchronicity with which their breath aligned, took violent pleasure in the way that she allowed him to memorize her moans, her curves, her hammering heartbeat. 

Foreheads pressed together and breathing the same breath, Draco allowed himself to give in, nearly blacking out from the pleasure that they’d created as he came, moaning wickedly into her neck as his observable world converged into a saccharine point of unbecoming. 

He vaguely registered her murmurs of approval, and felt the ghosts of her fingertips tracing patterns on his back.

Hours later, when the sun threw delicate rays of light over the horizon, Hermione was shocked to see that they were alone. Their company had crept away during the night, leaving the thoroughly exhausted pair curled in each other’s arms.

She stretched her sore body with languid movements, the heat of their night together coming back to her in a rush. With a coquettish smirk, Hermione contemplated rousing Draco with her mouth but reconsidered. If she did that, who knows how long he’d keep her in this field, drawing out her arousal for his pleasure until she cracked at the seams.

The sight of their neatly folded clothing not a foot away made her scoff in surprise. Their possessions lay alongside them, as well as a cold jar of very irritated, fateful beetles. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the love. Stay safe out there.


End file.
